


Unsteady

by Proudmoore



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 10:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16701082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proudmoore/pseuds/Proudmoore
Summary: You've been overworking yourself and it's taken a toll on your body so Leonard has to set you straight.





	1. Chapter 1

It was no surprise to you when you began to feel extremely faint at your station.  The instruments you’d been holding clattered to the tabletop, narrowly missing destroying the uncapped vials of a plant antitoxin you’ve been working on as you swayed and toppled to the ground, your head spinning.  
  
After an away mission gone awry, you’d been working on an antitoxin for a plant venom that the crew had been dosed with while the medical team fought to keep the exposed crew members stabilized.  The initial incident had occurred nearly 24 hours prior, at which time you’d already been six hours into a 12-hour shift, which meant you were currently on your nearly thirty-second straight hour without sleep.  It’s your job to oversee the development of the antitoxin as the Enterprise’s chief botanist and you’re taking the responsibility with the utmost seriousness. As such, you’ve also barely eaten anything in over a day and you haven’t had anything to drink besides coffee.  
  
You hear footsteps nearing you as you lie on the floor, your head spinning and nausea making your stomach churn and spasm. Your eyelids are heavy and you’re having trouble orientating yourself, even as hands land on your shoulders and a voice above you calls to you.

“Lieutenant Y/L/N,” Mr. Spock says in his usual, even tone; you remember that he’d come down to check on the progress of the antitoxin.  “We need to get you to medical.  The staff are overwhelmed with patients from the away mission, so I am going to carry you there.  Please try to stay with me.”  
  
He lifts you carefully as not to jostle you, but as easily as though you weigh no more than a toddler.  You know Vulcans are stronger than humans and for some reason the thought brings a hysterical giggle bubbling out of your throat as the first officer makes his way out of the lab with you.  
  
“Keep work’n on thantidote,” you murmur as your head lolls, and you’re not sure whether anyone has understood or even heard you.  
  
Your eyes fall closed as you bump along in Spock’s arms, your head bouncing against his chest.  You’re not sure how long it takes for you to reach med bay and when you do, even through your stupor, you can hear Leonard’s voice loud and clear.  
  
“My God, Spock, what happened?”  He asks frantically, and you’re jostled more as you’re transferred from the Vulcan’s arms and into the doctor’s.  “Tell me she didn’t come into contact with that toxin!”  
  
“I do not know,” the first officer replies. “I witnessed the Lieutenant falling down at her work station, though the vials she was working with appeared unbroken.”  
  
Leonard is muttering under his breath as he positions his tricorder near your face and barks at a nurse to draw blood and start an IV line in your arm.  You barely even feel the pokes as you focus on him and how close he is to you as he reads the information all of his machines are displaying.  
  
“Can you hear me, Y/N?”  He asks after a moment, finally slowing down in his assessment long enough to meet your gaze.  
  
You blink blearily and nod almost imperceptibly, swallowing thickly as another wave of nausea rolls through you.  
  
“What the hell happened?”  He demands.  
  
You groan by way of response, still too weak and groggy to make sense of anything, and you can do nothing more than allow yourself to be subjected to his careful, methodical physical examination and the scans that accompany it.  Leonard’s touch reassures you as he works to figure out what the problem is and before long, he’s formed a clinical impression and is leaning over you, blissfully blocking the glare from the bright overhead lights.  
  
“Your heart rate is through the roof, along with your blood pressure,” he reels, his tone laced with equal parts concern, anger, and frustration.  “You’re severely dehydrated and hypoglycemic, your serotonin and dopamine levels are skewed, and your catecholamine metabolites read like those of someone who’s in the line of fire.  Would you care to explain to me how you let yourself get so run down that you wound up in my med bay barely conscious?”  
  
You know his anger isn’t at you, or at least most of it isn’t, but it’s hard to keep the emotion off of your face in your tired state.  Even though as he speaks the medications nurse Chapel has put in your IV are quickly making you feel better, you can’t help but feel tears well up in your eyes. It’s not unusual: you’re used to getting very emotional when you’re exhausted and stressed out, and this is as tired as you’ve ever been.  Thankfully, Leonard’s tirade is cut short when he sees the tears trickling down your cheeks and his expression softens completely as he reaches out to wipe them away.  
  
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he says, his tone genuine and apologetic.  “I just get so unreasonable when I see you sick or injured.  It scares me to have you in such an unstable state and I just lash out.  I’m so, so sorry.”  
  
You smile weakly, clearing your throat and reaching up to put a hand over his where he’s touching your cheek.  
  
“S’okay,” you murmur.  “I deserve it sometimes.”  
  
Though the doctor doesn’t comment, a muscle in his cheek twitches.  
  
“When was the last time you ate?”  He asks softly, his whole demeanor much more inviting now that he’s checked his anger.  “Or slept?  Or drank anything?”  
  
You consider the queries, your brain still foggy with exhaustion and the inadequate blood flow from your racing heart.  
  
“Yesterday, over thirty hours ago, and I’m assuming you mean besides coffee,” you rattle off weakly.  
  
You can see that he’s paused long enough to take a deep, cleansing breath so that he’s not lashing out again and you shrink away a little, knowing you’ve got a lecture coming but not having the strength to listen to one at this moment.  
  
“I can’t be there to take care of you twenty-four seven,” Leonard says quietly, his tone grave.  “I trust you to take care of yourself when I’m not there.  It scares me when you let things like this happen.”  
  
You let the fact that he’d said it like you made a habit out of it slide and give him your version of events.  
  
“I have other people to take care of right now, too,” you say as firmly as you can manage.  “I’m overseeing the production of the antitoxin for that plant poison.  There are people here in your med bay who are counting on my team.”  
  
“You’re just one person, Y/N,” the doctor rebukes gently.  “Let your team handle this.  If they’re even a fraction as bright as you are, they’ll have the antidote ready in no time.”  
  
His words send a spike of anxiety through you and you have a sudden, desperate urge to go and check on the rest of your botanists and toxicologists.  Moving to sit up, you’re met with resistance as Leonard’s hand lands on your shoulder, forcing you easily to lie back against the bed beneath you.  
  
“No, Lee, you have to let me go,” you plead. “We’re so close.  If I can just get back there, we can have that antidote ready in a few hours.”  
  
“You’re not going anywhere like this, darlin’,” he says apologetically.  “I need to get your vitals under control before I even think about letting you out of bed, let alone out of my sight.”  
  
You bite back the urge to lash out in kind and instead turn your head, only just noticing that Spock is still standing by. Beckoning to him, you wait for him to step closer before speaking since your voice won’t carry far in your weakened state.  
  
“Mr. Spock, can you please stop by my lab for me?”  You ask. “Tell Lieutenant Hills that I’ve isolated the problematic protein at my station?  If she can run it through the database, she might be able to match it to a previously discovered molecule.  It’ll help speed up the synthesis of an antitoxin.”  
  
Mr. Spock inclines his head.  
  
“You have my word,” Spock assures you.  “I will speak with Lieutenant Hills immediately.”  
  
“Thank you,” you say gratefully, relaxing a fraction.  
  
“And while you’re there, tell the rest of them to get some rest, too,” Leonard calls after the Vulcan.  “If many more wind up in here like her, it’ll delay the antidote even more.”  
  
He’s right, of course, and while you’re not happy about him making an example out of you, you’re also concerned for your team.    
  
“One of my newest charges, Ensign Lockwood,” you tell Leonard, looking up at him with a pleading expression.  “She’s been down there for hours.  She has a heart condition.  I don’t want her passing out.  Can you send someone to check on her?”  
  
The doctor smiles softly at you, reaching out to stroke your hair.  
  
“I’ll do even better than that,” he reassures you.  “If you promise to get some sleep for me while the drugs help stabilize you, I’ll go down and check on her myself, and I’ll make sure everyone else eats and rotates off to get some sleep.”  
  
You reach up to take his hand, giving it a grateful squeeze.  You giggle inwardly as you consider how flustered the young woman is going to be under Leonard’s care, but there’s no one you’d trust more to take care of her or any of the others.  
  
“I’m so tired, I don’t even know if I  _can_  sleep right now, you know what I mean?”  You murmur, sort of buzzed now that your vital signs are returning to normal and the IV saline and glucose are kicking in.  
  
The doctor nods, stepping away from your side for just a moment before returning with a syringe full of medication. He twists it into the med port on your IV and injects it easily before discarding the syringe and putting a hand on your shoulder.  
  
“That’ll help you sleep,” he explains.  “It’s a mild sedative.  You’ll feel like a new person when you wake up.”  
  
“Okay,” you say with a yawn, closing your eyes as the sedative begins to weigh them down already.  
  
You feel a gentle kiss on your forehead before a blanket is settled over your supine form and tucked in around you.  As sleep beckons you, you hear Leonard’s voice somewhat distantly.  
  
“Sleep well, Y/N,” he says gently.  “Sweet dreams.”  
  
Hour later, you wake up with Leonard sitting beside you, looking like a new man himself.  You yawn widely and sit up, happy to see that the dizziness from before has dissipated and there’s a strength, however tenuous, in your muscles.  
  
“Can I get back to work?”  You ask.  
  
“Well good morning to you, too,” the doctor says with a chuckle.  
  
You give him a pointed look.  
  
“There’s no need, darlin’,” he explains. “Your team finished work on the antidote.  We’ve given initial doses to everyone who was affected and they’re all stable now.  As long as their recoveries hold, they’ll be free to go and get back to duty by week’s end.”  
  
“And Ensign Lockwood?”  You query further.  
  
“She’s just fine,” he promises.  “She did a good job taking care of herself; you could learn a thing or two from her.”  
  
You roll your eyes.  
  
“I still need to get back to work,” you say plaintively.  
  
Leonard shakes his head.  
  
“You’re incorrigible,” he drawls.  “I’ve excused you from your duties until the start of the next rotation.  Just because I’ve got you stabilized doesn’t mean you’re above a good, long rest and some TLC.”  
  
You sigh deeply, dropping back against the pillows on the bed, assuming you’ll be stuck in med bay until further notice.  
  
“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” Leonard says with a chuckle.  “Come on, let me walk you to your quarters.  I can take care of you just as well there.”  
  
You sit up eagerly, taking the arm that he offers for you to hold onto.  He forces you to take it slow and you’re glad of it as a wave of dizziness washes over you again.  Once you’re steady, Leonard walks you out of the private room you’d been assigned and leads you all the way back to your quarters.  Once inside, he settles you in your bed and pulls the covers up to your waist as you sit back against the headboard.  
  
“Can I bring you anything?”  He asks.  
  
“Mmm, a coffee would be lovely,” you ponder aloud.  
  
“Not a chance,” Leonard says without hesitation.  “After how much you drank yesterday I should cut you off of coffee forever.”  
  
You giggle as he takes your wrist, his fingertips landing on your pulse point and pressing there gently.  
  
“Now that I’ve got you stabilized, I’m not taking any risks,” he says gravely.  “You scared the hell out of me. Y/N.”  
  
“I know,” you say quietly.  “And I’m sorry.  I promise to take better care of myself in the future.”  
  
Leonard smiles, releasing your wrist and settling down next to you in bed, pulling you against his chest and pressing a kiss to your temple.  
  
“I know,” he replies.  “And if you don’t, I promise to pick up the pieces every time.”  
  
His words are the only medicine you need to help you really feel better, and you’re more grateful than ever to have him as you curl up against his side and doze off to finally get a proper night’s sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

You had honestly intended to keep the promise you’d made to Leonard a few weeks before when you’d been lying in sick bay recovering from a bout of exhaustion.  Things had gone well for a little while after your discharge, but now, as you sit at your workstation compiling chemical formulae and writing report upon report on the antitoxin your team had produced in response to the incident on that fateful away mission, you know you’ve fallen off the bandwagon.

Things had started out well; you had been sleeping through the night, eating healthy, and hydrating.  You had even managed to squeeze in a few workouts here and there.  As the pressure from the admiralty had mounted, though, time for yourself had become a fleeting notion, and sleep had begun to elude you.  You’d taken up coffee to keep yourself up late into the night.  Since then, you’ve barely had time for more than a granola bar or smoothie at mealtimes, and you can’t remember the last time you had water.  Now, as you sit at your desk with the last several lines of a report swimming blurrily before you, you know it’s all coming back to bite you in the ass.

Running a hand over your face, wincing at the ache behind your tired eyes, you straighten up in your seat and feel the world swim.  You mutter a quiet curse as your mind brings up a memory of the last time you’d let exhaustion get to you and you know you’re on a downward spiral toward the same problem as before.  Even worse, you’re aware that you should be getting medical attention before it gets too bad this time, but you’re not prepared for another row with Leonard.

Taking a slow, steadying breath, you decide to try and treat yourself first.  Carefully slipping off of your chair, you get to your feet and steady yourself until you’re balanced.  Once the dizziness passes, you make your way to the nearest replicator and punch in an order for water.  You drain the first glass while standing there and then fill it a second time so you can carry it back to your station.

Three hours later, the glass stands untouched and forgotten on the corner of your desk with bubbles having formed on the inside from the lack of disturbance.  You’re just a few sentences away from finishing your report, but the words on the page have stopped making sense.  Pretty much everything has stopped making sense, really, and you realize that your best intentions were for naught.  Sighing, you pick up your comm and send a message off to Leonard.

A reply comes through almost immediately.

 _He’s in surgery – accident down in engineering._  
Can I give him a message?   
– Christine

You groan and shake your head out a little in an attempt to focus long enough to type a reply without any egregious errors in spelling or grammar.

 _No rush._  
Can you send him over to the lab when he’s free?  
Thanks.

You set your comm aside when Christine’s reply in the affirmative comes through and cross your arms on your desk, resting your forehead on them.  Your back and shoulders ache from the pull on your spine in your current position, but you’re too exhausted to readjust yourself and so you endure the discomfort, quickly lapsing into a doze.

A while later – you’re not sure how long – you wake with a start when you feel someone’s hands on your shoulders.  Lifting your head slowly, you lick your lips and glance around blearily, wincing as the harsh white lights of the lab blind you temporarily.

“You look like crap,” Leonard’s voice penetrates the thick fog of your fading dreams.

“Thanks,” you warble, making a face at the cottonmouth you’ve acquired during your snooze.

“Why aren’t you in bed?”  Leonard asks.  “It’s the dead of night.”

“Time is arbitrary in the blackness of space,” you argue, wincing as you sit up and your entire back screams in protest.

“Don’t give me that,” Leonard says coolly.  “What are you still doing up here?”

“Finishing another report,” you explain.

“Another?”  Leonard asks, raising an eyebrow at you.  “You mean this isn’t an isolated incident?”

You curse inwardly as you watch him go into doctor mode, paying closer attention to you than he had been previously.  You wilt beneath his scrutiny, hunching in on yourself a little as a sudden chill wracks your body.

“I’m afraid not,” you admit.

Leonard lets out a frustrated sigh and you watch him take a slow breath to collect himself before speaking.  You’re grateful that he’s modulating his tone, especially since the level of exhaustion you’re feeling right now has your emotions running high and all over the place, and you might cry if he says anything too gruffly.

“We went through this just a few weeks ago, sweetheart,” he says lightly.  “I thought you were doing better.”

“I was,” you say, defensive.  “The admiralty has just been breathing down my neck about the antitoxin after that last away mission.  I’ve been doing calculations, writing equations, and finishing report after report for over a week.  There aren’t enough hours in a day for me to get all this work done and to have time to take proper care of myself.  I’m only one person, and there’s a lot on my plate right now.”

Leonard’s expression changes to one of sympathy at your tone and words and you feel relieved to see his vexation evaporate as the compassion in him takes over.

“Anyway,” you continue.  “I had Christine send you down here because I’m realizing that I’ve done a terrible job of taking care of myself, and I can’t go on like this. This is me asking for help.”

Leonard steps forward in the blink of an eye and gently wraps his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace.  You let out a long, shaky breath that you didn’t even realize you’d been holding and rest your forehead against his chest, letting your eyes flutter closed.

“I’ll take care of you,” Leonard promises.  “And I’ll talk to Jim about telling the admiralty to back off a bit.  With two incidents of exhaustion on file in this short a time, they’ll see reason.”

You nod against his chest and inhale his familiar, clean, comforting scent.  You sit up as he slowly pulls away and watch as he offers you a hand to help you out of your chair.  You take it and slip off of the edge of your seat, landing on the ground and feeling your knees buckle beneath you.  Before you can hit the floor, though, Leonard’s supporting you with an arm around your waist and looking at you in concern.

“Let’s try something else,” he murmurs.

You’re about to ask what he means when he shifts you around a little so that he can sweep you off your feet and into his arms.  You yelp in surprise and throw your arms around his neck, clinging on tightly as he turns to make his way out of the lab.  You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries you down the hall and into the turbo lift, keeping it there as you arrive on the correct floor and he heads out again, this time directly to med bay.

As he carries you into a private room, you detach yourself from his neck so he can set you down on the bio bed.  It’s nowhere near as comfortable as the bed in your quarters, but it’s infinitely better than the desk you’d just been dozing at and so you don’t complain; you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

As the bed comes to life and begins monitoring all of your vitals, you realize that your usual nervousness over being in med bay is nowhere in sight.  You’re far too weak and tired to protest the medical intervention and so you resign yourself to lying back and letting Leonard worry over you.

“My God, sugar,” he says grimly, his gaze fixed on the monitor overhead.  “How did you let it get this bad?”

As if he can’t believe the numbers he’s seeing, he steps closer and reaches for your wrist, wrapping his long, expert fingers around it and feeling for the pulse there.  His touch is comforting, even if it is entirely clinical at the moment, and you relax as the heat from his skin warms you a little.

“I’m cold,” you rasp tiredly.

“In your state of dehydration, I’m not surprised,” Leonard murmurs.  “Your body can’t thermoregulate without enough fluid.”

He releases your wrist and sweeps out of the room for a moment. You can hear him talking to Christine briefly and he returns seconds later, going right back to work, picking up his tricorder.  You groan softly at the ache in your body as you shift a little while he scans you, earning yourself a sympathetic glance from him.

“I’ll get you feeling better soon, darlin’,” he assures you.

“I know,” you say with a small smile.  “You promised to take care of me, after all.”

Leonard chuckles softly and nods as he sets the tricorder aside.

“That I did,” he says.  “Now just keep behaving like you are and this’ll be quick and painless.”

You pull a bit of a face at him.

“I resent the implication that I’m ever anything but the perfect patient,” you grouse.

“You’re not as bad as Jim, I’ll give you that,” Leonard states.

You’re about to make a smartass comment when the door to the room slides open, drawing your attention.  Christine walks in with an armful of blankets and immediately moves to your bedside opposite Leonard, setting her load down and beginning to cover you up.

“I’m a good patient, right?”  You ask her.

She smiles brightly and winks at you, earning herself a half-lidded glare from Leonard.

“Absolutely,” she replies.  “The best!  I wish all of our patients were as cooperative as you.  It would make our jobs so much easier.”

“I see how it is,” Leonard says.  “You two are in cahoots.  The old ‘gang up on the CMO’ routine.  Very funny.”

You and Christine exchange amused glances as she finishes tucking the blankets in around you and you offer your arm obediently as she moves to start an IV.

“See?”  You say sweetly.  “Cooperative.”

Leonard rolls his eyes and moves off briefly, returning moments later with a hypo.  Still smiling tiredly, you turn your head obediently and allow him to inject the contents of the hypo into your neck.  You barely even wince at the sting and you let your eyes flutter closed as he massages the injection site a moment later, soothing and relaxing you.

You’re not sure what was in the hypo, but within a few minutes you start feeling better.  Your headache is receding, your nausea is settling, and the aches and pains in all of your muscles and joints are quieting.  Relaxing at last, you sink into the bio bed’s thin layer of cushioning and succumb to the draw of sleep that’s been eluding you for days.

You wake some time later after a deep, dreamless sleep and though it takes you a little while to orientate yourself and remember the events that had brought you to the med bay, you quickly recognize what’s going on and manage to stay relaxed as wakefulness slowly grips you.

“Hey sweetheart,” Leonard says from beside your bed.  “How are you feeling?”

You yawn widely and smile as you glance over at him.

“Better,” you reply.  “How long was I out?”

“Long enough that I was worried you’d slipped into a coma while I wasn’t looking,” Leonard replies.

Your eyes widen in surprise and you glance over at Christine who is quietly adding some sort of medication to the bag of saline solution that’s hanging from a pole at the head of your bed.

“About twelve hours,” she answers softly.

You groan and close your eyes, attempting to push back the wave of anxiety that’s rising as you think about how far behind you’re going to be on your reports if Leonard keeps you in med bay much longer.

“Relax, sugar,” Leonard says softly, resting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it gently.  “I’ve spoken to the captain and your deadlines have been extended by two weeks. You’ll have plenty of time to get your paperwork finished after a couple of days of rest.”

Relief floods through you at the thought that you’ve now got more than twice as much time left to finish your reports than you thought you did.  You take a slow, deep, contented breath and reach out to take Leonard’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you say softly.  “Again.”

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart,” Leonard assures you.

“So, when can I get out of here?”  You ask.

Leonard levels his gaze on you, undoubtedly wondering whether you mean get out to go to your quarters or to go back to work.

“Once your current saline drip is done,” Leonard replies.  “In about twenty minutes.”

You nod and open your mouth to speak, but he puts up a hand to stop you before you can say anything.

“I’ll take you back to my quarters,” he says firmly, leaving little room for argument.

Not that you care much.

“Don’t you have work to do?”  You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.  “What time are you off?”

“I was off before I even brought you in here last night,” Leonard states.  “And I’m not back on for another day, so I have plenty of time to keep an eye on you.”

You feel a flicker of guilt as the implications of Leonard’s words sink in.

“Did you get any sleep last night?”  You ask worriedly.  “I don’t want you winding up like me, especially not  _because_  of me.”

“Don’t worry about him, Y/N,” Christine pitches in from the side of the room where she’s charting the medication she just gave you.  “Let Dr. McCoy take care of you, and you leave his wellbeing to me.”

She winks at you and then promptly disappears, leaving you alone with Leonard.  You turn to look at him and can’t help but smile when you see the goofy grin on his face.

“She’s good people,” you say warmly.  “You’re lucky to have her around.”

“Don’t I know it?”  Leonard says wryly.  “Now, you just rest your eyes for a little bit longer; I’m going to finish up a few notes in your file.  I’ll be back soon to take you home.”

You nod and close your eyes as Leonard leans in to give you a soft, gentle kiss.  He briefly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand and the next moment he’s gone, leaving you to lie around for a little bit longer.

As you relax, the sounds of the med bay around you work like a balm on your frayed nerves, lulling you into a deeper state of ease. You barely even note the passage of time as you rest for the first time in days.  Most of all, you can’t find it in yourself to erase the smile on your face at the thought of getting to spend a couple of days of quality time with Leonard. Thoughts of your reports fade away into the void as you imagine the feeling of his warm, strong arms around you and his soft lips on yours.  The thoughts are so wonderful that a part of you, however infinitesimally small, considers maybe forgetting to look after yourself every once in a while if it means getting to spend a bit of time away from the hustle and bustle of the ship in the arms of the man you love.

If anyone asks, though, you’ll never admit it.


End file.
